Tristan stood in his nightshirt. He was really coming to hate nightshirts. He could still hear the low hum of conversation from Sam’s adjoining room so he waited until he was alone before going through. He supposed the staff were all aware of the nature of the liaisons between the gentlemen visitors but he was not going to parade himself in front of them. He heard the door close, and silence fall, so ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. This was his last chance to persuade Sam to stay, or allow him to travel with him until they could work out a way to see each other. He simply could not accept that Sam would leave tomorrow and he would never see him again; he just could not. He closed his eyes and prayed that he would be able to find a way to persuade him. As he made fo
